Besotted
by candymacaron
Summary: Merlin and Arthur are at an inn, where Merlin get's a little too drunk and needs help up to his room. A short written for the prompt "Impossible" @ the Camelot Drabble LJ community. :)


"You're absolutely besotted," Arthur grinned.

Merlin pursed his lips in protest, creating a cute dimple at the side of his mouth. "As are you!"

"It takes more than a few cups of ale to floor me Merlin."

"Because you're Arthur Pen-_drunken_, veritable definition of manhood, that it?" Merlin said, his legs buckling under him like snapped twigs. "You're…you're far too pretty to be a _king_!"

Arthur lifted Merlin by his belt, hauling him up the slanted stairs of the inn. He was fairly certain what Merlin had just said was treasonous, but he let it slide. "_Pretty_," He snorted. "Don't you mean _handsome_?"

"Breathtakingly so," Merlin giggled. He fell into Arthur's shoulder, adding, "But don't tell Arthur I said that. The prat would never let me live it down!"

Arthur replied with sharp laugh. He'd managed to carry his inebriated friend up the stairs without incident, propping him against the wall like a rag doll. "Your room key?" he asked.

"Satchel…. no wait-"

Merlin took off one of his boots and tilted it forward, an iron key thudding to the floor. Arthur attempted to steady him and grab the key, but the task was proving more difficult then anticipated.

"Why on earth would you put it _there_?"

"Thieves and cutthroats' everywhere in the country," Merlin said, his eyes shifting in accusation. As if the walls of the humble inn were crawling with the aforementioned lawbreakers. "Won't find it in my boot will they? Now who's the clever one?"

"Hold yourself together will you?" Arthur sighed.

He opened the door and tossed his manservant on the mattress. Merlin's room wasn't as nice as his own, but judging by the furnishings the innkeeper had done this best to make it feel cozy. A lantern at window was already lit, the glass cutting crisp shadows across Merlin's cheeks. Merlin stared at the ceiling while the King perched at the edge of his bed.

Without warning Merlin's fingers teased the clothed ridge of Arthur's spine; until it's length straighten under his touch.

"You must be tired," Arthur said hesitantly.

"I'm not-"

Arthur kicked the chamber pot closer to the bed as a hint. "If you don't sleep Merlin you're going to feel like hell in the morning."

"I will if you…. help me undress?"

"Me? Sully my hands in such a demeaning task? Why do you think I have a manservant to that for _me_?"

"Have I met this bloke?" Merlin grinned stupidly. "Should I be _jealous_?"

"You know my manservant, the scrawny fellow with the ears," Arthur said flapping his hands behind his own ears until Merlin burst out laughing.

It was a beautiful ringing laugh, deep and unrestrained.

"Best I could ask for, to be honest," he swallowed. "Even if he is a drunkard."

"You're lucky to have him," Merlin replied. He nudged Arthur with his boot until the king removed it, standing it up by the bed. Merlin then offered the sleeve of his tunic.

Arthur smirked at the gesture. Merlin was certainly pushing his limits tonight.

He took it in hand, exaggerating the time it took to untangle the laces. "Merlin, how am I supposed to undress you when you're laying flat as a dead horse?"

"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" Merlin said. He leaned upright, pulling his tunic over his head to help the process.

Arthur's eyes widened at the sight of smooth muscle and ivory skin, but he felt the flush before anything else; the hot wet sensation of Merlin stealing a kiss from his parted lips. Looking up at him with unmistakable longing and a smile warmer then sun.

Arthur constricted his breathing, as if punishing himself for the enjoyment he felt.

He'd been fourteen when he'd learned what it meant to covet another man. Uther had taken him riding, they'd passed the gallows outside the city, his father recounting condemnations to the young prince. One man had stolen from the tax collector; the other murdered a cobbler. The last body wasn't even a body; it was a chard husk in a gibbet. Arthur had assumed the corpses sentence was sorcery, but he'd been accused of crimes against nature. Executed for relations with another man.

The memory was something Arthur would dredge up whenever he felt his conviction about Merlin slipping. It was one thing to feel strongly for his manservant, but to allude to it was a huge risk. To be honest, he didn't even know how two men physically pleasured one another. But why was it that his breeches grew tighter whenever imagined just what _he'd _do to Merlin?

"This isn't a proper idea," Arthur exhaled into Merlin's lips.

Merlin looked back in shame. "Because I'm a man?"

His body was aching, hungering for every inch of Merlin, yet he said; "Because you're drunk, and lonely. It's time I find you a wife Merlin. Someone… someone who can take care of you, cook. Put some meat on your bones-"

"I don't want a wife," Merlin whispered.

Arthur had ravished Merlin a thousand times in his dreams; felt for years their souls were forged for one another, but he could never declare this to him. Never speak it out loud. Instead he sat beside Merlin, running his calloused fingers through his hair. "It's impossible Merlin, you and I... I'm bound by my vows. By duties and a kingdom larger then myself-"

"And I'm bound to you Arthur," Merlin replied, his eyes clouding. "Can't you understand that?"

He laid Merlin in bed, tucking him under the covers. Kissing him chastely on the forehead until Merlin's eyes closed, heavy from too much drink. "Yes, and I wouldn't want anyone else by my side," he whispered.

In the quiet of the night they had reached a familiar stalemate. Existing in the purgatory of friends who were more then friends. Of king and manservant, always together, yet always painfully alone.


End file.
